In All Truth
by fascimility
Summary: [KenshinSaitou] Saitou stays the night, uncharacteristically. Kenshin pushes his luck.


Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin. Right.

Notes: Tried to create a feeling of intimacy between the welcome:) Sorry it's a little rushed.

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_In All Truth_

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Kenshin hisses when Saitou draws out of him. Saitou is being careful tonight, like he is on most, but it is always on the rainy ones that his raw gentleness cuts Kenshin to the quick. Saitou is murmuring softly into his ear, breath warm, hands securely wrapped around his waist. Tender flesh protests at the sudden friction.

There is rain pouring outside like there's no tomorrow. When Kenshin looks up he sees lightning worming its way past bloated, whale shaped clouds. Thunder rumbles sonorously in the distance. Silence is settling slowly like a stone to the bottom of his body. He makes no move to resist. Beside him Saitou is fumbling around under the covers for something. Kenshin asks, "What are you looking for?"

"Cigarettes," Saitou replies brusquely, arching an eyebrow and giving Kenshin a look before resuming his search.

Kenshin looks incredulous. "You brought them to bed? With the lighter?"

Saitou hums and response and continues looking, ignoring the admonishment in Kenshin's voice. He hauls himself into a sitting position, blanket demurely pulled past his waist. They seldom talk afterward, and Saitou wonders what will come next. He contemplates starting a fight so he can snarl and snap and act like the cold bastard he usually is. But this is after sex, and it _is_ Kenshin, so he settles for lighting a cigarette and exhaling testily. Maybe the sulky curl of the smoke of the end of his cigarette will be sufficient indication of his disinclination to speak. He decides to look pointedly at the door, just for good measure. Kenshin responds by tugging the blanket unceremoniously off Saitou's legs and wrapping it around himself.

The rain changes angle and slants into the room, making a spreading wet puddle on the floor just below the window. Saitou briefly debates shutting it, but he is saved by Kenshin, who grumbles, but gets up anyway.

The watchman's bell rung over an hour ago. It's almost three in the morning: almost time to leave. Saitou briefly considers the option of spending the night; not that this will be the first time he's stayed after sex, but it will be the first time that anything barring a blizzard or a monsoon has kept him in. He could leave, of course. But that would mean having to hunt for his clothes (difficult— the warmth of the bed is alluring, and he just knows his clothes are going to be uncooperative and play hard to get). And looking for an umbrella, since he hadn't thought to bring one over, and he is pretty sure Kenshin's is somewhere at his place.

"Fuck," he mutters at the thought. Perhaps he should go look for an extra futon…

Kenshin's hums sleepily and rolls over to look at him. "Hmmm?" he asks.

"Extra futon," Saitou says, rather cryptically, hoping Kenshin will get the message.

Kenshin gestures vaguely at the cupboard. "Second shelf, on the right."

Saitou untangles himself from the blanket and starts to get up. He doesn't notice when Kenshin's grasps his arm and gives him a sharp tug, sending him sprawling on top of the other man. "What the—"he manages, before Kenshin cuts him off with a quick kiss.

Briefly, he considers shoving Kenshin away and biting down on the vulnerable neck. He could protest, say that since when had their relationship ever included kissing, and he wasn't some fucking woman, damnit. If Kenshin wanted cuddles and romance he could turn to Kaoru. But as it is Kenshin's fingers are stroking down his back, deliberate and slow, and his tongue shoved into Saitou's mouth like he's trying to reach deep, deep in. Saitou growls and pushes back, torn between biting down hard or reciprocating. Those hands are reaching into him and drawing him apart with their gentleness, leaving him as exposed and undone as he was when they first unravelled him. The sensation is alien, painful, even, and he fights it, tooth and nail, seeking to halt the wave of vulnerability that he is drowning in.

The clatter of rain on the wooden roof is rhythmic and soft. Saitou wills Kenshin to slow down, to stop whatever he is doing, and just be still. It is too much at once; acceptance cannot come when he is unprepared for so much change. Kenshin doesn't speak. Words cannot express what he is trying to convey, so he merely sits back and begins to rub comforting circles onto Saitou's back. He makes his movements non-threatening and gentle, careful not to push too far.

Saitou is motionless for a while, before turning around and grabbing Kenshin's hands in his. Kenshin doesn't move, doesn't make a sound. He waits. In the semi-darkness of the room Saitou's eyes are black and slitted, almost menacing in their intensity. Kenshin doesn't flinch. He trusts Saitou never to hurt him intentionally when they have sex, and even in this state it is inconceivable that he would do so.

When minutes have passed and the sweat on his skin has cooled to an uncomfortable stickiness and Saitou is still staring mutely down, Kenshin sighs in resignation—perhaps it is enough for one night. Saitou apparently needs time to think. He fetches the extra futon and blanket from the shelf, laying it next to his, careful to leave a bare strip of floor between them.

"Goodnight," Kenshin wishes Saitou, ignoring the fact that it is just a few hours short daybreak. The rain has lessened to a drizzle. He reaches over the gives Saitou a quick squeeze on the shoulder. His mind is reeling with exhaustion and relief—he never dreamed it possible, and although he's glad that it's over and done with, he still wonders what the consequences will be. The wind is cool on his face. Kenshin falls asleep.

When he awakes it is late—almost midday, judging by the sounds of sparring coming from the dojo and the smell of fish being over fried. He feels arms wrapped securely around his torso and is more than pleased when his still dazed mind gleefully informs him that they're Saitou's. The other futon is still neat and unwrinkled from where he left it last night.

Thank god, he thinks, sending his heartfelt gratitude to all the gods up there. He gives the smile that Kaoru calls goofy and Yahiko calls plain stupid. He ignores the knocks on the door and Kaoru's call for lunch.

This is his morning, and he is damn well going to enjoy it. 

The End

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End file.
